Seed Of The Cemetery Breeze

As I breathe a single breath
when ever I am alone.
I can find an answer why roses bloom,
though I don't feel like I come from
my mother's womb.
The moment I started to write this poem,
It invited my imagination to enjoy the
laughter of the immortals
everytime I visit my grandpa's tomb.
The halloween skulls representing the day of
saints and souls.
the hymns of the funeral,
the burning candles, and the people's mourn
I often ask myself,
why do we shed our tears if pain and loneliness
are the reason?
for me death is a peculiar dimension,
in the philosophy of my appreciation.
Tasks undone, some restless spirits have not yet
overcome.
but on the other side of their journey,
there will be a cosmos, a blessing, and
a gift that will come.
Beyond the horizon of the earth,
I've seen the cycle of my birth.
It was formed into ash,
to be crushed into dust
towards the hour of my last breath.
In times of my anger,
I often brace myself and ponder.
about the purpose of the cosmic life,
which sometimes becomes a
senseless matter that makes me feel sick and wonder!
But when rhymes of life become signs,
my crave for satisfaction tells
me to hang on for a moment,
for there will be a time that
salvation will be mine.
now I have visualized the
sensitivity of my psyche.
and I know that it will grow
stronger for the reason of the
apocalypse.
Someday I will learn to
compromise
just like one thing I have realized
to rest in peace, is to harvest
a fruit from the seed of the
cemetery breeze....

-For the souls departed-